Sneaking Around
by tgrfan23
Summary: A missing scene from episode 2x08, His Red Right Hand, because this show is on CBS, not Showtime, and therefore they couldn't show us this part. Cause you KNOW this totally happened.


A/N: Come on, someone had to write this missing scene, right? Since this show is on CBS, and not Showtime, we gotta use our imaginations. Hope you enjoy; if so, please be so kind as to leave a review! - aml

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Grace Van Pelt hit the "end" button on her cell phone and returned it to its spot on her nightstand. She had a little less than an hour to shower, dress and kick Wayne out of her apartment so that they wouldn't be caught arriving at their crime scene at the same time; the better to prevent tipping off a certain nosy consultant that they'd spent the night together. She already heard the shower running and was thankful Wayne had decided to jump in first. She headed into her bathroom and was about to reach for her toothbrush and toothpaste when she heard the shower door slide open and felt a wet arm wrap around her waist, dragging her under the hot spray.

"Wayne!" she yelled indignantly. "What are you – mmphphmphmh!" Her protests were swallowed as Wayne dove in for a bruising kiss.

He paused just long enough to take in a deep breath and answer her question. "I'm conserving water." Attacking her mouth again, he started walking her backwards, slowly dragging his lips and tongue down her neck, to the valley between her breasts, reaching under her thighs to lift her off her feet and pin her back up against the wall of her shower, allowing him easier access to her taut nipples. She gripped his head tightly, threading her fingers through his wet hair and holding on for dear life.

"Wayne," she cried breathlessly, "we don't-" she gripped his head even tighter as he bit down on her left nipple, immediately soothing the pain with gentle strokes of his tongue. "Oh, God, that feels so good."

Rigsby worked his way back up her neck to suck the tender spot behind her right ear. "Were you about to tell me we don't have time for this?" She nodded, and dove in to nibble on his ear as well. He reached back to his neck, taking one of her hands, dragging it down his wet chest to cover his rapidly hardening erection. She gasped sharply as he wrapped her fingers around his cock. "Are you sure about that?" he whispered, with more than a little hint of desperation in his voice as her hands began stroking him firmly.

"No," she whimpered, flinching slightly as his hand reached down to stroke her clit.

"Fuck this," he said, as he reached under her thighs again, raising her up higher against the wall and thrusting hard up into her pussy.

Grace wrapped her legs around the small of his back, hooking her heels together in an effort to anchor herself to something. Her nails were leaving red, angry tracks down his shoulder blades as she scrambled to clutch his wet, slippery body closer to her as he rapidly - almost violently - bounced her repeatedly up and backwards against the wall. She was not normally fond of shower sex; the few partners she'd tried it with couldn't match Wayne's stamina, height or strength. She'd never been with anyone who possessed the innate confidence in his ability to satisfy her sexually that Wayne had, and they'd only had sex a couple of times.

"_Oh, so close _… _keep doing that_ … _God, Wayne, this is torture_ … _please_ ..." she whimpered desperately.

He replied with his own pleas. "_Grace, you feel so good_ … _been dreaming about this so long_ ... _can't hold back much longer_ … _Grace, please, need you to come soon_ …"

Reaching up to cradle her head, he plumbed her mouth with his tongue and teeth, distracting her from the knowledge that he was reaching again for her clit, stroking the tiny bundle of nerves with the pad of his thumb in perfect concert with his thrusts. Both hand and hips became increasingly more erratic in their movements as her legs tightened around his waist, her nails scoring deeper tracks down his back. She let go of his mouth to suck in deep lungfuls of air while shrieking at the top of her voice. She was suddenly very glad that she lived in an end unit, and that neither her bedroom nor her bathroom shared any walls with her next-door neighbor. As all of her muscles contracted in unison, she felt his hips pin her back squarely against the wall, using all of his upper body to hold her in place as he thrust a few final times before spilling deep inside her. He peeled her away from the wall, cradling her shuddering body in his arms, allowing them both time to catch their breath before he released her to slide back down to her feet.

She leaned up on her tiptoes to draw him back down to her mouth for a long, sensuous kiss, while reaching for her shower gel and a loofah with one hand.

He pulled away after a minute, dipping his head back under the shower spray. "Grace, if you keep kissing me like that, we'll never make it out of the shower." She retaliated by pouring out a glob of lilac-scented gel and rubbing it teasingly up and down his arms and upper body. He gripped her wrist tightly and leaned backwards to wash off the suds. Her arm slipped out of his grip and she turned around to lather herself with the rich soap. Rigsby groaned, but leaned down to place a quick kiss on her shoulder. "I have to get going," he whispered into her ear. "If I have to stand here and watch you do that, we'll really never leave and we'll both get fired."

She leaned back into his chest and grinned broadly. "Go," she said, reaching around and smacking him on the ass. "We can't get caught arriving at the crime scene together anyway. Get dressed."

Rigsby did as he was told. By the time Van Pelt emerged from the shower barely four minutes later, he was already buttoning up his dress shirt and looping his tie around his neck. She stood in the doorway briefly, just watching him dress, turning back from Wayne, her lover, back into Rigsby, her colleague and partner. He tightened up his tie and reached onto her desk chair for his badge and gun holster, fixing them in their customary spot on his belt. He looked up and smiled lecherously, as he noticed that she was clad solely in her bathrobe, her hair in a towel turban. He grabbed his jacket and car keys, and strode across the room to kiss her goodbye. "You better get moving, missy – we're expected at the scene in a half hour."

She pushed him gently away. "Don't worry about me, I'll be ready in ten. Plus, I know a shortcut."

"Care to share?"

She winked deviously. "Nope. I think I'll let you rely on the GPS in your car. Get. I'll see you in a bit." She watched wistfully as he headed towards the front door, and she heard the click of the door closing. She threw on her clothes and pulled out her blow dryer, getting her hair about 75% dry before she gave it up as a bad job, tugged on a headband and decided to let it air dry the rest of the way. She swiped powder over her face and gave her lashes two coats of mascara. Satisfied that she looked professionally presentable enough for 5:30 in the morning, she grabbed her jacket, purse and keys and ran out the door.

As she settled into the driver's seat of her car, it occurred to her that she should be very grateful that Patrick Jane's long list of abilities did not include x-ray vision.


End file.
